


Huggles

by R00bs_Teacup



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Beach Holidays, Cuddling & Snuggling, Fluff, Non-binary character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-26
Updated: 2016-04-26
Packaged: 2018-06-04 15:26:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6664114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/R00bs_Teacup/pseuds/R00bs_Teacup
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For a prompt from otpoftheday tumblr: I underestimated Mother Nature and didn't dress warmly but you're really warm can I just hug you</p><p>just snuggly, cuddly, huggly Porthos and Athos on the beach. Porthos is cold, Athos is warm, negotiations take place.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Huggles

**Author's Note:**

> http://otpoftheday.tumblr.com/post/119476133022/i-underestimated-mother-nature-and-didnt-dress
> 
> for the prompt page. I love the prompts on this tumblr, I may use others.

Athos looks out at the sea. Ze's sat at the top of some dunes, retreated from zir friends, seeking quiet. It's nice out here, even when the weather's not great. It's not raining, it's just cold and windy. Athos has a good coat, and a blanket, and warm woolly socks. Ze's not cold. Ze closes zir eyes and breathes deeply, enjoying the taste of salt, the sound of the waves, the feel of sand beneath zir fingers. Athos loves the beach. 

When ze opens zir eyes, ze sees Porthos coming up the dune from the beach, wearing nothing but shorts, grinning widely, hair full of sand, damp. Athos wonders if he fell in the sea. Again. He keeps on doing that. Athos looks around for Aramis, who Porthos had been playing with, and the football they'd had, but neither is in sight. Porthos reaches Athos' position and flings himself down at zir side, breathing heavily. 

“You should come running with me,” Athos says, putting a hand on Porthos' heaving chest. 

“I should definitely not do that. That sounds terrible,” Porthos says, getting his breath and sitting up, still panting a little. “You alright?”

“Yes.”

“Good, good.”

“What happened to Aramis and football?”

“We were playing volleyball, actually. He went to flirt with some woman so I left him to it. I just hope he doesn't have beach-sex again, he complained about sand for days last time,” Porthos grumbles. 

Athos watches him, then reaches out. Ze rubs the sand out of Porthos' hair, smooths a hand over his shoulders, down his back, rubs the damp shorts-leg between his fingers. 

“We were playing in the waves,” Porthos says, looking sheepish. “I didn't fall in, though, this time. Just got a bit wet.”

Athos nods. Ze rests a thumb against Porthos' cheek, turning his face gently, gently. Porthos grins at zir. Athos examines his face minutely, looking for the familiar lines, the familiar joys and sorrows written there. It makes zir smile, and Porthos' grin goes lopsided and soft. 

“Are you gonna kiss me?” Porthos asks. 

“You don't like it,” Athos says. 

“Eh, go ahead. You look like you want to, and I don't really mind.”

Athos goes ahead. Ze loves kissing Porthos, when Porthos allows it. Porthos, despite not being someone who likes it much, is very good at it. He's a warm, affectionate kisser, and Athos loves sinking into him. 

“Ooh, you're warm,” Porthos says, pulling away from Athos' lips, shuffling closer, shoving sand everywhere. Athos glares. “What? Do I look like I'm dressed appropriately for this weather? Come on, I'm freezing.”

“Should've worn more clothes.”

“You look so warm and cuddly. Why'd you think I came up here? Come on, let me cuddle.”

“Nope,” Athos says. “I thought you came up here to keep me company, but all you were after is my warmth.”

“Yeah, that's not a lie. Come on, come on, let me hug you? Oh, I know. I'll have to go hug Aramis if not. Boney, skinny, flirty, dirty, boner-y Aramis.”

“Boner-y?” 

“Yeah, he always gets inappropriate erections. They just pop up, like he has no control. Are allo people all as horny as he is, or is he unique?” Porthos says. “There he is, look. He's coming this way. Better get your cuddles in before he comes and pops his erection at us.”

Athos laughs, flopping back into the sand, giggling wildly. Ze reaches to tuck zir hand into the waistband of Porthos' shorts, knuckles resting against the skin of Porthos' back. It is a bit cold, and Athos turns his head to look, to examine the expanse of dark skin, the beautiful warm brown of it, the scar over his hip. Aramis comes up, standing in front of them, hands on his hips. He doesn't have an erection. 

“What are you doing?” Aramis asks. 

“Nothing,” Porthos grumbles. “Ze won't snuggle me warm.”

“So go get a jumper. Me and d'Artagnan are going to get chips, either of you want?” 

“No,” Porthos says. “I want cuddles, not a jumper. I thought you were flirting with Mandy?”

“I don't think her name was Mandy.”

“It was something innocuous. Molly, then, I dunno, I didn't meet her. I don't know her name.”

“I wasn't flirting with her, I went to help her build a sandcastle, and she was twelve.”

“Oh. Chips?”

“Yeah.”

“No, I don't want any,” Porthos says, sighing heavily. “Charlie's back? Where are they? I like Charlie's cuddles.”

“They're finishing off the moat,” Aramis says. “They'll be up in a minute. Constance is back, too, she went off for a walk with Annie and Louis.”

Athos, bored by the conversation, focuses back on Porthos' skin, walking zir fingers up his spine, tugging on a curl of hair, finding a ticklish spot. Porthos yelps and squirms away, shrieking and giggling. Athos smiles, letting up, letting Porthos go limp and breathless, flopping back next to Athos. 

“You're a menace you are,” Porthos says, pressing an affectionate hand to Athos' belly. “Can I touch?”

“Sure,” Athos says, patting the hand.

“Come on, cuddles?” Porthos begs, widening his eyes, pouting. 

Athos wants to touch Porthos' lips, but refrains. Porthos doesn't like Athos focussing on his lips. Athos strokes his cheek, instead, runs a finger over his nose, exploring his features. 

“You're beautiful,” Athos whispers. 

“Give over,” Porthos says. 

“You are. I love you,” Athos says. 

“Yeah, but not enough to give me warm-up-huggles. Hey, Charlie! You want a cuddle?”

Athos looks up to watch Porthos bounce to his feet and embrace d'Artagnan, who always wants hugs. d'Artagnan melts into Porthos' arms and sighs, pleased. They're such a hedonist. 

“Oh, you're cold, love,” d'Artagnan says. 

“Athos wouldn't warm me up,” Porthos says. “You're not as warm as Athos.”

“I know, I'm gonna go find a coat and get chips. Want to come?”

“No. I'm gonna stay with Athos, I'll get a hug out of zir don't you worry. Ze's just grumpy.”

“Ze's always grumpy. Come on, Aramis, I wanna eat,” d'Artagnan says. 

Aramis gets up from where he'd sat, and links arms with d'Artagnan, who's still half in Porthos' embrace. Porthos lets go reluctantly, and d'Artagnan gives him another hug, and Aramis gives him one too, and then they wander off, arm in arm. Porthos sits back next to Athos' hip. Athos sits up, and opens zir blanket. Porthos looks hopeful. 

“Wait a minute,” Athos says, unzipping zir coat. 

Then, ze opens an arm in invitation. Porthos makes a happy noise and scrambles closer, tucking himself inside the coat and blanket, sighing in contentment. Athos wraps zir arms around him, shaking zir head. Porthos, though, is impossible to resist for ever, especially when he just wants to be close. 

“Oh, so warm,” Porthos says. 

“Idiot,” Athos says. 

“I know. You love me anyway, though. Just me feet are cold, now,” Porthos says, frowning, looking at his bare feet.

“I can't do anything about that,” Athos says. 

“Could give me your socks,” Porthos says. 

Athos snorts, but ze does bend forwards to get zir shoes off, and gives Porthos the woolly ones. Ze's wearing two pairs, so it's not a terrible sacrifice. Porthos pulls them on and digs his toes into the sand, cuddling in close again, sighing in contentment. Athos hugs him, the way Porthos likes- encompassing him as much as possible, holding him, rubbing his back. 

“Better?” Athos asks. 

“Much. Thanks.”

“Any time.”

“You made me beg.”

“I am too indulgent of you. I have to do something to stop that spreading and turning you into honey or something.”

“Mm, honey,” Porthos says, resting his head on Athos' shoulder. “I love you. You're warm.”

Athos laughs. Porthos snuggles closer, getting his hands up under Athos' clothes and warming them on zir skin. Athos lets him, lets him do as he pleases, lets him curl in close, tuck his head against Athos' shoulder, press his face close, humming. Ze is far, far too indulgent of Porthos. It's just so easy, to let him. To press kisses to his hair and cheek and stroke his shoulders and back and hold him, cradle him, close against the cold and the wind.

They watch the sea together for a while, and having Porthos in with zir actually makes it warmer. Once he warms up, Porthos is like a hot water bottle, pressed tight against Athos' body. It's so strange, and nice, to have someone that close to zir body and still be so relaxed and easy, still feel so centred. There's no dysphoria, with Porthos. Porthos just accepts zir, love zir body as part of zir, doesn't care what other people label things as. 

“I love you,” Athos says, softly, kissing Porthos' hair again. “So much.”

“Mm,” Porthos murmurs, sounding sleepy. 

“Don't fall asleep, you'll get cold,” Athos says. 

“Pro'ly. Tired, though.”

“Shall we walk back to the cottage? Aramis and d'Artagnan will probably head there, and Anne must be back already for Louis' dinner and bed time.”

“You walk back, I'll stay snuggling. You can carry me, right?”

Athos laughs and hauls Porthos to his feet, folding him in close to zir side, keeping the blanket around them. It's hard to walk so close, but Athos is now practised at it. Porthos loves being close, being hugged, being held. Athos usually indulges him, too. Ze wraps an arm around Porthos' waist and they wander back to the house, Porthos quiet and content. The sun's going down when they reach the front door, and when it opens, light spills out onto them, illuminating them. 

There are voices in the kitchen, d'Artagnan's laughter, Constance's snort of amusement. Porthos guides them upstairs, though, to their bedroom. He strips out of his shorts and tugs at Athos' clothes until zir is down to zir boxers and a t-shirt, then he bundles them into bed for more snuggling. Athos indulges him, gladly, and they lie together, whispering quietly.


End file.
